


whiskey, rye, and your pretty eyes

by fraldarian



Series: Commissions [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bars and Pubs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraldarian/pseuds/fraldarian
Summary: There are a lot of things Felix hates. Perhaps most of all, however, are the assumptions that come with dating Dimitri.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Commissions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854472
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	whiskey, rye, and your pretty eyes

**Author's Note:**

> commission for @Tammybal_ over on twitter! thanks for commissioning me.

There are a lot of things Felix hates. Perhaps most of all, however, are the assumptions that come with dating Dimitri. For all intents and purposes, Felix is not small. He’s shorter than the average man, but it doesn’t mean much when he can topple Dedue over or keep Sylvain’s forehead pinned to a solid table. It’s not by genetics, but by hard work that’s paid off.n the end, Felix has become a ruthless opponent.

It’s why he hates when others downplay him. Hates when others think of him as overtly feminine, their prejudicial stereotypical remarks that come off as nothing more than insults. He’s seen the way people look at him, _knows_ what they’re thinking before it’s even said. It’s the long hair, it must be, and the fact that he’s coupled himself with a man that looms several inches above his head. Fe doesn’t understand why; there is nothing remotely flowery about himself or the way he acts.

Of course, there are many aspects about his life with Dimitri that Felix also rather enjoys. He likes the way Dimitri looks in the morning after he’s just woken up, blond locks a strewn mess and an eye shut closed. Likes the way that his scent reminds Felix of his bittersweet adolescence, a childhood long since gone and a first kiss that Felix can still feel linger on his lips years later.

When they go out, it’s always with a painful realization that their mannerisms are polar opposites. Where Dimitri is polite and forgiving, Felix is short-worded and curt. Dimitri’s face is broad and curves softly. Felix’s is a pointed chin and sharp angles, like glass that cuts through skin.

Despite it all, it doesn’t matter. Any instance might provide as an example, but none so other than tonight. It’s a clear cut, prime showcase of what it is that drives hands to turn into fists and an abashed Dimitri that tries his best to be a diplomatic third party.

“One beer, and a Sex on the Beach.” Felix is holding up two fingers pointedly at the bartender, his other arm folded underneath him. Dimitri’s to his right, eyeing a menu left at their expense before neatly folding it and tucking it away. The action makes Felix want to roll his eyes, if only for how obnoxiously polite it is.

The bartender nods, casting a brief look at the both of them before moving away. “Sounds good. I’ll have those to you in a few moments.” As soon as they’re gone Felix turns to his boyfriend, picking up the menu and holding it in front of Dimitri.

“This is a pub, Dimitri. You don’t need to act so bloody tidy. You stick out like a sore thumb.” In front of them both is a shared plate of nachos, one that Dimitri’s been idly picking at before wiping the corners of his mouth with a folded napkin. Felix, on the other hand, has little reservations. It’s finger food, and in his eyes, it’s meant to be messy.

Dima sighs. “It’s proper etiquette, my beloved.” Of _course_ it is to him. He’d grown up in the rich suburbs of Fhirdiad, a brick house and a pool that never went untouched. The table manners adopted by the upper class had never been of much interest to Felix, but it was hard to ignore when his boyfriend seemed so keen on keeping up with them.

“Whatever you say.” Fe turns back around, drumming fingers on the bar table. The bartender is moving on to their drinks next, and he watches as a fruit concoction of vodka, peach, and both a mixture of orange and cranberry juice is poured into a singular glass. The colour that is created is indescribable, and at the end its topped with a viciously red cherry that Felix instantly knows is a maraschino cherry. Nothing more than a sugary fraud.

The bartender moves forward, and suddenly their drinks are being placed separately in front of each of them. “Here you two go. Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

Except it’s not Felix’s order. Instead of a beer he’s staring down at the impossibly fruity drink, and when he turns his head, an abashed Dimitri is handed a bottle of beer that was initially meant for Fe. “This isn’t what I ordered.” The vehemence in Felix’s voice creeps out before he can really stop himself, and instead he turns back to stare across at their server.

“Oh! Did you not order a Sex on the Beach?” There’s a troublesome frown, and then the bartender looks between Dima and Felix. “Did I mix your two orders up? I thought –”

“You thought wrong.” Felix cuts the worker off before they can even finish their sentence. He doesn’t need to hear it; Felix knows what’s going to come flying from their mouth regardless. So instead, he fills the empty silence himself. “You thought I wanted the frilly drink, didn’t you? Because a man like Dimitri here isn’t capable of ordering anything like _that_ , right?” The jeer that leaves from between curled lips is more vicious than intended, but Felix doesn’t mind. Especially when the surprise that flashes over the worker’s face is clear as the setting sun outside. Good. The callout is what they deserved. “You don’t need to say much. It doesn’t matter if your stereotypical profiling was unbiased.” There’s the tapping of fingers. “Don’t they teach you how to serve customers during orientation? Don’t assume, idiot.”

The blush that spreads between both Dimitri and their server is unparalleled, rivalling each other. It’s Dima that speaks first, clearing his throat and letting a deep voice rumble upwards from the centre of his chest. “I beg my pardon in interrupting, but I daresay he has a point.” His boyfriend’s voice is obnoxiously cordial, even now. Felix assumes it’s a good thing though; if Dimitri were to show any signs of vehemence, it would have set Felix off to go for the bartender’s jugular. “In the future, please do ask. I was the one who ordered the Sex on the Beach,” Dima informs. Meanwhile a hand reaches out to swap the drinks, and Felix grips his newly given beer with a vice-like stance.

People are looking at the disturbance. The bartender must not like it, but who is Felix to care? He’s tired of the biased treatment. “I’m very sorry, do forgive me. You’re right. I should have asked.” The smile they’re offered is tight-lipped and pressed through a thin mouth. Fe wants to wipe it off completely.

Felix shrugs. “Whatever. I want to leave.” Dimitri must be able to sense the exasperation laced in with those words, because Fe catches his boyfriend nodding.

“Here. How much is our total?” Dima holds out several bills of cash, and before long they’ve paid. For once, Dimitri does not tip. The silent act of defiance is probably the most radical thing the man’s done in ages. Felix thinks it deserves a kiss.

It’s what he does as soon as they’re outside, when Felix can finally raise to cup Dima’s face and pull him down. It’s a short kiss, a little more chaste and lacking any real force. But it’s a genuine one all the same.

“Are you alright?” Dimitri asks, and before long there are broad fingers and a warm palm intertwined with Fe’s. The touch is grounding, and it sets a laugh careening from his throat.

“I’m fine.” He’s annoyed, that’s for certain. But a familiar thumb helps smooth some of the bad thoughts away when it circles the soft skin found on the back of his palm. “I’ll get over it. It happens often enough.”

The good thing is that despite what others might think, Felix knows how their relationship plays out. In the end, he imagines that’s all that really matters. They’ll go home, Dimitri might stop and personally pick up a two-four, and Felix will have to accept it despite the abashment of such a clear display of affection. Perhaps they’ll watch a movie or two, and before long, they’ll fall asleep in their bed. Dimitri will be tucked underneath Fe’s arm, and they’ll stay like that until the morning after.

It’s the ideal life. One that Felix wouldn’t trade away for any bribe or offering placed in front of him. They might have their ups and downs, and the occasional fight. But it’s right, and it’s wholly perfect for him. It doesn’t need to be for anyone else.

When Dimitri smiles down at him, the corner of his eye crinkles. Fe wants to smooth it out, wants to run gentle fingers along pale skin that he’s known since childhood. Instead he loads himself into the car, folds his hands in his lap, and lets Dima turn the radio on to a classic rock station.

“Where to?” Asks his boyfriend, and the question is so simple, so familiar, and yet Felix can’t help but offer a knowing smile in return.

“Home.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @fraldarian!


End file.
